Nothing To Lose (A fat girl novel) by Baehr Consuelo Saah

Author:Baehr, Consuelo Saah [Baehr, Consuelo Saah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Consuelo Saah Baehr
Published: 2010-09-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“Are you doing anything about your life?” It was Sylvie on the phone from Ardsley, a small bedroom community in Westchester where she and Spencer Straight had settled with their son, Bradford, who, Sylvie said, was a big boy now.

“He’s almost four,” she explained crossly when April asked if he talked yet. “He’s learning to ice skate in preparation for playing ice hockey. He takes violin lessons.”

“Violin lessons? Can he hold it with his chin and everything?”

“He doesn’t hold it yet. It’s the Japanese method. He plays on a Cracker Jack box glued to a stick. Just until he gets the feeling of the bowing.”

“Does he read music?” April was in uncharted territory. She would have accepted that Bradford did brain surgery on the side.

“Of course, not. He’ll play by imitating the sounds. He listens to his record every night before he goes to sleep.”

Bradford’s nonstop life was making her feel depressed. She wanted to get off the phone and wash her hair. Her left eye felt as if something were in it. “Does he ever play with toys?”

“What kind of a crack is that?”

“Sylvie, I’m not trying to discredit you. Honestly, you sound so defensive.”

“Of course, I’m defensive. You’re asking if my child speaks yet when he reads all of the Sam and Sally books. Doesn’t that sound hostile to you?”

“Yes, it does. Stupid more than hostile. And thoughtless. I’m sorry.” She felt saddened that she had not been to see Bradford and bounced him on her lap. He was practically her nephew. Now it was too late. He was beyond cuddling and bouncing. She wouldn’t have minded seeing Sylvie, too, but Sylvie would be distraught at the sight of her. How could you have done this to yourself, she would ask and April would not have an answer. The question she feared most was someone asking her why she had let herself go. Something inside her had let go.

“This conversation is supposed to be about you, remember?” Sylvie’s voice was conciliatory. “How are you doing with your life?” She made life sound like a metaphor for knitting.

“My life? Well, now, let’s see. I’m working.” She stopped to let this positive fact sink in. “For a department store.”

“I’m afraid to ask, are you selling?”

“Oh, no. I work behind the scenes, so to speak. For a chain of stores in New Jersey. I work in Newark.”

“Newark? You go to Newark every day?” She could feel Sylvie turn anxious. She was afraid that April’s life was settling into some bizarre pattern that wasn’t reversible.

“Yes.”

“Why for godsakes?”

“A very good reason. That’s where the job is.”

“What kind of job?”

“Writing ads. I’m the advertising writer for soft goods. It’s an executive position. I get a discount on everything. Except sale items, of course.”

“Oh.” There was an upbeat pause. “That’s not so bad.”

“It’s part of the Burdette chain. Eight stores just in New Jersey.”

“Oh. Can you be transferred to another city?”

“I hadn’t thought of it, but I guess I could.”

“Oh, well. It’s an investment in time.

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